


A New Staff I Can Make

by kabukiza



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, post battle reunion, spoilers for episode 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-23 18:10:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18707263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kabukiza/pseuds/kabukiza
Summary: Arya reunites with some of her family and searches for Gendry





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In honor of the episode tomorrow, and the scene that we all want/have written but will not get, here is my obligatory Arya x Gendry post battle reunion fic.
> 
> Had it not been the end of the semester at university right now I would have finished this on Tuesday, but I am proud that I have at least finished. I apologise for the grammar/spelling errors that I am sure are present. Please enjoy

She had done it.  
Arya stood staring at Bran.  
“You succeeded” He says a monotone voice.

 _You said I'd shut many eyes forever._ She had said to Melisandre, _You were right about that too._  
_Brown eyes green eyes and **blue eyes.**_ The red woman told her.  
She had stared at her, understanding washing over Arya’s face. Blue eyes. Only then did she know of her part in this battle.

 _What do we say to the God of Death?_  
Not today.  
At those words Arya began her race to the godswood, to the night king. Her last words to the red woman serving as her own suit of armor, bravery from the same words Syrio Forel would repeat to her in mantra, pushing her into action in her most daring assassination yet.

And here she was now, staring at Bran, the battle over. By her own hand none the less. She let a smile slip, eyes watering only a fraction. There had been so much death, and she was exhausted. 

She turned around, surveying the godswood. Corpses upon corpses surrounded her, the remnants of the night king at her feet.

Not fully taking in the situation, her eyes drift to Theon. He was once like a brother. Now his body lay face up with a spear in the side.  
“He died valiantly, with honor.” Bran said.  
Turning back to him, she looks him in the eye.  
“How did he die?”  
“By the night king himself, Theon was the last man defending me.”  
His eyes shifted from Theon’s body on the ground to a space above it.  
“Jon.” He said in a light yet monotone voice.

Quickly turning, Arya watches as Jon staggers over, breathless. When he notices the archer’s bodies scattered around the weirwood tree and piles of wights surrounding them he slows his pace, head turning at the sight. Remembering his brother’s voice, his eyes shoot up, and meet Arya, pace quickening once again.

Seeing Jon alive gave Arya a sense of relief. He collided into her, enveloping her in a hug. However, after a second he released her, looking in to her half bloodied face. Taking a step further back he saw her position in front of Bran, catspaw dagger clutched in her right hand, and a pile of ice at her feet.  
“By the gods.” He said, placing all the pieces together. “Arya… you” he began, not knowing what else to say or ask.  
He lurched forward, catching Arya in a hug full of warmth.  
“I wasn’t going to make it, I thought it would all be over.” He said quickly, mostly to himself.  
“But you were there, you know how to fight. You aren’t the young girl I left behind in Winterfell.”  
“She did.” Bran said in agreement

She didn’t have the energy to elaborate on Bran’s confirmation. It took all she had left in her just to kill the night king, let alone explain it right after.

Thinking to the rest of the battle, Arya asks, “What are the casualties?”  
Loosening his hold so that the two could look to each other, Jon looked down.  
“They were severe Arya. We won this battle at a great cost.”  
“I hope Sansa made it.” Arya voices out loud, “I sent her to the crypts before the dead reached the walls.”  
“The crypts were not as safe as we had hoped. Nevertheless Sansa survived.” Bran said  
Arya and Jon looked at him, but he gave no explanation.  
“Well, at least she made it” Jon said grimly.

Sansa was safe, so was Jon. Her mind drifted to Gendry, her once hope of a family, had he survived as her siblings did?  
“I have to go” Arya blurted out.  
Jon strengthened his hug, kissing her on the forehead in farewell. Stepping back she turned and laid a hand on Brans shoulder, he looked into her eyes knowingly, and nodded his head.  
“We can regroup again, when the dead are dealt with.” He said to her in goodbye.

She turns to leave as Jon and Bran discuss the battle. 

Making her way out of the godswood, Arya stopped at Theon’s body. He lay face up, spear through the side. Sadness creeping through her, she crouched down, passing her hand over his eyes, closing them. In a last farewell, she bent over, kissing his brow. They may not have been the closest of friends, but Theon truly was a sibling to the Starks, and he died in the home he knew.

Clambering up, and moving on her ears rang from the wound on her head. It has been a hard crack against the battlement walls, she was too focused on escaping the horde of wights to give it a moment notice. Now it came back tenfold. Her neck wasn’t faring any better. Gingerly rubbing it, she felt the cold indent where the Night King held her.

Standing at the entrance to the north courtyard, Arya looked out to utter carnage. Bodies piled upon each other, the odd warrior staring around them in disbelief, the battle only ending a few minutes ago.

The smallest hint of light was beginning to show, dawn. The danger over, Arya knew she had to find Gendry. She has lost him once before, and she was not going to let that happen again.

Arya knew Gendry was to fight with the Wildings, the Hound, and Berric. Scanning her eyes she only saw men dressed in Northern gear. It was best to search through the living first she thought, stumbling through the courtyard, looking for anything familiar. 

Suddenly her eyes spotted the red hair of Tormund Giantsbane, leader of the wildings, looking around in disbelief. Next to him stood Gendry.

He still had his axe in his hands, held up as if the dead would rise to attack any second. The two were in an elevated position, on what looked to be a shed. However, bodies of the dead surrounded the shed so that the two were standing on a hill of sorts.

Noticing her first as she moved towards them, Tormund blurted out, “It’s the she wolf.”  
She would have given him recognition, but her eyes were only for Gendry.

He was still focused, it struck her how it was no wonder Gendry was a Baratheon. He had a kindled battle rage surprisingly strong for a man who had barely ever fought before. Panting, his glazed over eyes moved in the direction Tormund was speaking. 

When he met her gaze, his eyes widened, axe slowly lowering. He straightened up from his lowered fighting stance, and slowly began to move towards her, stumbling down the pile of wights. The entire time his eyes trained on Arya, as if she would disappear the moment he looks away.

Finally making it to the ground, he looked her over, as if to check she still had all her limbs. Disbelief seemed to overtake him, as if Arya appearing before him was just a hallucination.

Not able to contain herself any longer, she started to walk towards him.

“Arya” he breathes, finally accepting his reality. Pace quickening, his axe mindlessly slipped from his hand.

With the rest of her strength she bounds forwards, throwing herself into his arms as the two crash together in an embrace.

Bran, Jon, Sansa,  
and Gendry  
They had all survived, the dead she could mourn later.

He whispered her name as if it were a mantra, the chant keeping her there. His head rested on top of her own, face pressed into her hair. Her own was buried in his chest, feeling his thundering heartbeat and rise and fall of his breaths.

Neither had a care for the other’s filth, the battle having wiped away any pretense of civility.

The battle is over, we won she thought, melting into Gendry’s embrace, finally accepting it.

He was no fighter, but the smith had held his own in the battle, he had no grievous wounds that she could see, and judging from the dead that was previously surrounding him he was able to protect Winterfell.

Finally letting herself relax, she began to lose the strength in her arms.

Feeling her slackening grip, Gendry followed in kind. Not releasing her from his embrace, he moved apart just enough to look down upon her face.

Staring into his blue eyes once again, “I lost the weapon you made.” She blurted out.

He stilled for a moment, then breathlessly laughed at her sudden interruption.  
“A new staff I can make, Milady.” He said, smile upon his lips.  
She looked down, “I am sorry, it was well crafted.”  
“Think nothing of it.”

Coming back to their senses, the two separate. 

Arya noticed off to the side how Tormund was giving the Lady and the Smith the oddest of looks, head tilted to the side in confusion. His thought soon disappeared however, when the shouting orders of Ser Brienne of Tarth drifted through the courtyard. Clambering down the pile he sauntered off in the direction of the sound.

Her body was becoming heavier and heavier with the second, mind as awake as ever.  
“I could sleep for a thousand years.” Arya voiced, physical exhaustion washing over her.

“Lets take a break for a moment, we can help when we’ve regained some strength” Gendry said, pointing to an wall in the courtyard, mostly clear of dead bodies.  
Wrapping his arm over her shoulder, he motioned for her to wrap hers around her waist. Suprisingly the position helped support her tiring body just enough. They made they way over slowly, Gendry walking with a slight limp, doubtless a wound from the battle.

They both collapsed on the floor, backs against the stone wall, relief washing over the two. Shoulder to shoulder the surveyed the courtyard, people bustling around, trying to find loved ones, or helping the wounded. They would only stay like this for a few moments, just enough to regain the strength to help, but it was still a welcome comfort.

“Look” Gendry said, looking upwards.  
following his gesture Arya moved her field of vision up.  
The long night had ended, dawn finally broke.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A continuation of their reunion after the battle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh this has gotten much longer than I thought it would.
> 
> There were a few suggestions to make a part two, so I thought, why not? I also thought I’d spice it up a little and have a Gendry POV.
> 
> I literally wrote this in a few hours, and it’s not really up to the quality that I would want, or nearly as angsty, so I apologise for any mistakes made. Someday I'll probably come back and re-write some of it.
> 
> Nevertheless, Enjoy!

Trudging into the great hall, Arya felt as if she could pass out.

The long night may have been over, but everyone’s day in Winterfell had just begun.  
After she had taken a moments rest with Gendry, he had insisted her to first visit Maester Wolkan, her accepting if he would do the same in kind.

The Maester, having inspected the wound on her head had told Arya he concluded her wound was no small matter, and banned her from any hard physical labour for the next few days.

With nothing else to do, Arya spent her time assisting the Maester tend to the injured.

First they helped the grievously wounded. With the assistance of a few soldiers they were moved to an open and clear room in the castle. The work was not easy, and many did not make it in the first few hours, but Arya was no stranger to death.

Eventually, through careful planning, soldiers trickled in and out of their stationary medical ward. From minor cuts to dislocated appendages they made their way through the remaining army.

She was loathe to admit it, but being able to stay put, confined to one room, helped the dull thud in her head which only worsened the more she was active.

A plan was spread throughout the living in Winterfell that they were to sup together at sundown, and as the light of day began to fade Arya made her ways to her rooms. With luck they were still intact, as she was able to change into clean clothes and freshen up.

By the time she had made it to the great hall, it was bustling with people.

At the head table she spotted red hair, her sister Sansa.   
They had time to reunite, as Sansa quickly related the horror in the crypts, however both Ladies had other matters to attend to, Sansa off to organize the cleanup of Winterfell. There would be time, later.

Queen Daenerys was no where to be found, and for a while so was Jon. He was dining with the rest, but a strange expression plastered to his face.

Scanning her eyes through the masses of all manner of people, soldiers, lords, servants, there was no distinction tonight, Arya spotted a space at a table.

The hound was brooding as usual. As Arya slipped into the seat next to him, he instinctively moved his head, probably to tell whoever sat near him to fuck off. However, it stilled when there was not a stranger, but Arya sitting with him.

They shared no words, an unspoken understanding of the loss the two suffered. Instead, they both ate ravenously, the hound most likely having a day just as hectic as hers.

A few seats down the table she spotted Gendry sitting with Ser Davos. She reckons the two had helped with the moving and preparations for the dead spread throughout Winterfell. Sipping on her ale she noticed how the both of them seemed rather close, Gendry smiling at the older man.

Her meal finished in record time, Arya could feel the call of her own bed. 

Downing the rest of her drink, Arya places a hand on the Hound’s shoulder. He looked up at her as she rose out of her seat, turning back to his plate he grunted in reply. 

However, as she was readying to leave the table, Arya felt a strange ache in her chest. It was not the first time she felt that odd feeling, and it was most certainly tied to one person, Gendry. 

She looked down the table, and saw the blue eyes of the Baratheon bastard on her. Holding his gaze for perhaps a moment too long to not be inconspicuous, she stepped away from he table, and slowly exited through a side door to the great hall.

Closing it, the noise from the hall suddenly dampened. 

Moving a bit down the hallway she pressed herself against the wall. Leaning her head back she relished in the quiet cold, it soothing the dull thud of her head.

 

* * * 

They had not seen each other for most of the day, nevertheless Gendry felt a sense of relief wash over him as he saw Arya sitting with the Hound, silently eating.

They seemed to have a strange relationship. He had gathered that they travelled together after the brotherhood without banners, but still, there was a sense of protectiveness that the two held for one another.

He couldn’t help but glance over her direction every few minutes.

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed movement where Arya was sitting. She had patted the Hound’s shoulder and was rising out from her stool. Her eyes shifted to him.

Arya held his gaze as she left the table and began to make her way out of the hall, finally tearing herself away as she turned to exit through a side door.

_Does she want to talk to me?_ He thought.  
There was no harm in checking, and part of Gendry hoped that was the case. The events of last night left him confused as to where they stood.

Turning to Ser Davos, who was animatedly talking to a soldier Gendry did not recognize, he lightly coughed to gather his attention, “I’m going to turn in for the night.” He said.

“Will I see you later lad?” He asked.  
“I don’t rightly know Ser.” Gendry said, not wanting to give away his actual reason for leaving.

Ser Davos looked him over, then nodded.  
“You’re mind hasn’t been here anyway, perhaps some sleep will help with that.”

“I think it will.” Gendry responded, removing himself from the table and making his way to the same door he had seen Arya use.

Moving into the quiet hall, Gendry looked both ways, seeing nobody in the vicinity.  
 _Maybe I was miskaken, she could have just been tired._  
When he then saw the small figure of Arya Stark move away from the wall she must have been pressed against, not too far from him.

“I… I didn’t know if Milady wanted to see me” Gendry began, slowly approaching the Lady.

Arya gave him a deadpan stare. Her grey eyes boring into him.  
“Don’t call me that, and yes, that was my intention.”

He couldn’t help but grin a little, teasing her was always so fun.  
“As you wish Milady.” He says, “What ever could the lady of a high house need with a lowly bastard?” As he slowly began to walk closer to her.

“We didn’t get much time to talk earlier today.” She said, cutting through his japes.  
She was looking down, hands wringing together as if she was nervous.  
Moving closer in concern, hand reaching out as if to place her hands in his, “What’s on your mind?” He asked.  
They were close enough to easily embrace as the had in the morning.

Her head tilted up, eyes meeting him.  
“I don’t want to loose you again” she whispered, eyes glancing down to his lips and back up again.

She leaned forward slowly, and Gendry met her, brushing his lips against hers.  
At the expanse of any rejection on Arya’s part, his lips met hers again in a kiss.

Their kiss was gentle, not like the night before. Here there was no rush, as he slowly cupped the right side of her face, feeling the warmth emanating against his palm. Her arm snaked up to rest on his, bring the two closer together.

They slowly moved to the wall, softly kissing the other until Arya’s back was against it. Neither broke off, both enjoying the tender moment together.

Eventually pulling out of the kiss, Arya locks eyes with him.   
Gods, he could stare into those grey eyes for the rest of his life if given the opportunity.

“You must be tired” she says.  
Looking down between them, Gendry chuckled to himself.  
 _I feel as if I could sleep for a thousand years, if only my heart would calm._

His mind lost in thought, the next moment, he realised Arya was no longer in his arms. Turning around she was standing in the hall, must have slipped though them when he was not paying attention.

Walking towards him again, her hand reached for his own. 

He het her take it, as Arya began to walk down the hall, further into the castle. 

They were silent as Araya guided him through the twists and turns of Winterfell. Up flights of stairs and through battlements, until she stopped at a closed door. 

Pulling out a key from her tunic, she unlocked it, and walked in.

From the doorway Gendry saw a large room, four poster bed on one side, desk on the other. Something in him stopped Gendry from moving any further.  
 _I’m just a bastard, I shouldn’t be doing this_ he thought 

Arya stopped, and turned around in her room  
“You can come in you know.” She said. “There is no harm in that.”

Sheepishly he stepped in, closing the door behind him but not walking any further.  
“Arya… Last night.” He said, not knowing how to continue.

“I didn’t know what would happen today. I also do not know what will happen tomorrow.” She blurted out, sitting down at the foot of her bed, eyes trained on him.  
“ **You** nearly died today, **I** nearly died today.” She continued.

Her eyes drifted downward, “I don’t know many things Gendry, I don’t know what will happen in the future.” Her eyes snapped up to him “But… I know what I want, and what I feel.”

“You wanted me to come with you, said that we could be family” he interrupted.   
“I’m sorry for leaving you then. I’ve never had a family, and I was jealous of you having one yourself… even if they weren’t around.”  
His heart ached. Out of all his adventures and experiences, he had never felt as much at home than with Arya. Were it sleeping side by side in the woods of the river lands, or joking with each other in the forge. His words all those years ago had felt right to him then, but now he realised just how much of a blunder he had made, how he had thrown his only chance for a family away.  
“I’m just a bastard.” He said, “But… I’ll stay by your side if you’ll have me, Arya.”

She was silent, regarding him with her stony eyes, expression blank.   
After a few moments Arya got up, slowly pacing over to him.

His breath stilled, heart thundering, not knowing what she would say next.  
But she leaned up on her toes, dragging Gendry down in a kiss.

Pulling away, she looked into his eyes, holding his hands in hers.  
“Then come to bed” she whispers, guiding him further into the room.


End file.
